


to plough the seashore

by xumyuho



Series: capita mortua [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Established Relationship, M/M, Past Violence, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16552880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xumyuho/pseuds/xumyuho
Summary: Way of life doesn't change in half a day's worth of travel





	to plough the seashore

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! Hey! It's been like one point five years, i know!
> 
> I asked prompts for short drabbles on twitter, and one of them was soonwoo and 'saltwater'. ao3 user historiologies, you really know how to pull my strings...  
> i'll be writing and posting more of these later! 
> 
> For this one, I wrote out just about what was supposed to be the ending of capita mortua, before I decided to end it much earlier. non-beta'd, stress-free, may not make any sense to someone who hasn't read capita mortua
> 
> its still 11/7 here so, happy birthday cat, and happy xu minghao day to everyone!

 

The car they're driving consists of more repairs than original product. Soonyoung doesn't mind, it's not too far from what he's used to. He hasn't been behind the wheel in a long time, but it's going smooth enough. "It's like riding a bike," Soonyoung told Wonwoo.

"You don't know how to ride a bike," Wonwoo grumbled nervously and reached for a seatbelt that wasn't there.

Seungcheol had known for weeks before they finally told him they were leaving, but he didn't say anything. Soonyoung knows, that Seungcheol knows, deep down, that the house isn't big enough for all of them. Wonwoo, him, and Seungcheol's family of three.

"But you two are his boys," one of the old ladies in the neighbourhood, old mrs Ahn would say solemnly while Soonyoung carried her little belongings to the train station. All the wrinkles on her upper lip, carved in place by decades of cigarette smoke, seem to bow downwards with that same solemnity. Her son sent her a ticket for the train and money for a brand new suitcase, asking her to just finally come down to the coastline and live with them. "I've been refusing for ten years now," she admits and adjusts her rosy-red coat around her thin shoulders. "But now, time has come for me to go." Soonyoung wants to ask why now, but doesn't. He instead gives the suitcase over to the conductor and says goodbye to old mrs Ahn. Watching the train leave, Soonyoung reasons that people just know when it's the right time. As mrs Ahn decided it's her time to live with her son, Soonyoung decided he and Wonwoo can't stay with Seungcheol any longer.

"Isn't it a bit cold? Or, I don't know, _cold-bloodedly cruel_ to just leave?" Wonwoo asks, first in a whisper, but in the middle of his question the familiar sound of a toddler crying fills the house, and Wonwoo feels safe enough to use his regular indoor-voice. "He's done so much for us." Soonyoung can pick up sadness from Wonwoo's voice, like he's afraid Soonyoung doesn't appreciate any of Seungcheol's kindness.  
  
Soonyoung shakes his head lazily like Wonwoo's the dumbest man on Earth, and sits in front of their bed. He sets down a management kit next to his knee and extends out his hand. Wonwoo shrugs off his cardigan and familiarly rests his left wrist on Soonyoung's palm. Soonyoung has just about gotten used to the metallic surface of it, and only occasionally misses the skin that used to be there. Wonwoo has also just about gotten used to his prosthetic limb, it's jerks and quirks and. Well, the general absence of a real arm.

Neither of them remember much about the night Wonwoo's arm got busted beyond saving, Wonwoo passing out pretty quickly from bloodloss and Soonyoung being in shock and all, but it was a long time in the making. Many breaks in many bones, many nerves, many times. Not enough time to heal, not enough money to buy time from doctors, and not enough signs in the world to even hint that a sore loser would whip out a bat after the cage closed for the night. Maybe some gang had a fighter in, and maybe Wonwoo was a threat to that fighter, maybe it was just happenstance. They will never know why, but Wonwoo's left arm is now off-white, shineless but metallic, a very old model and busted from use, but it has the basic technology of attached nerves, ability to move, and the rehabilitation period wasn't that long or rocky.

Not at least as rocky as Soonyoung had feared. It was only a few dozen times that Soonyoung held Wonwoo's face in his hands and kissed his wet cheeks after hearing the noise of something — a fork, a pen, a bottle — falling to the floor and Wonwoo screaming in frustration. But he got steady, they got through it.

"We won't just disappear overnight and never talk to him, or— or go without _telling_ him, jeez," Soonyoung defends himself and opens the kit, digging out a wipe. There's blood on Wonwoo's knuckles and Soonyoung starts working to get it out. "We would... find a place, tell him then, and move out when it's done." Soonyoung picks up a tool that looks like something dentists use to scrape out tartar. Wonwoo's knuckles have scratches in them, and Soonyoung has to fish the dirt out. "And... to kind of get away from it all, you know, I thought we could, uh, take a trip."

He focuses on the task at hand and only quickly glances up at Wonwoo's puzzled face.

"A trip?" Soonyoung nods. "Where?"

There's this silence Soonyoung hadn't planned on, but his words get blocked on their way up, and his thumb runs over Wonwoo's palm. "The coast," Soonyoung finally says, and meets Wonwoo's eyes. "But only if you want to! It's a long drive to drive alone, and..." Soonyoung smiles a little, sheepishly, one corner of his mouth pulling upwards like a fish on a hook. "I've wanted to go for a long time, but there's no point if it's not with you." Wonwoo wraps his fingers jankily around Soonyoung's hand and reaches down to smash a kiss on Soonyoung's face. He clumbers down from the bed to sit on Soonyoungs lap and hugs Soonyoung so their cheeks are pressed together, and Sonyoung feels Wonwoo's eyelashes not far from the corner of his eye.

It's a very Wonwoo-kind of yes, and Soonyoung thanks him in a whisper.

 

 

They get going at first light, after a rare rain without any acidicity in the air. Seungcheol wraps an arm around each of their shoulders and hugs them close to his chest, and for some reason Soonyoung is surprised he doesn't press kisses on their heads. Perhaps he's saving those up for his son. Or maybe Soonyoung and Wonwoo ougrew that kind of stuff without even noticing it. Seungcheol ruffles their hair and pats them on the cheek and looks them in the eyes. Wonwoo starts to look like he's going to cry, and Soonyoung is ready to let him, though they're moving out only after they get back.

"Have fun out there, yeah?" Seungcheol tells them and Soonyoung feels excitement burst inside his chest, traveling through his veins, making him understand it's actually happening. They're really going. Eventually Wonwoo gets in the car, one of the forever-projects left unused that Seungcheol gladly gives to them. "Drive it into the ocean and leave it there, for all I care. At least she will go out in style."

Soonyoung starts it, sits still and allows memories to just float by him. Memories of machinery, humming of motors, clashing of metal and cramped spaces filled with lifeless heat. They're only memories, and Soonyoung stands above them. Wonwoo asks him if he's okay, and Soonyoung smiles. "Yeah," he tells him, because he is. It's been something akin to 1 830 days since he's been behind the wheel of a guntruck or a heavier carrier. It's long enough to feel like it was another life.

The towns they drive by are just as muted and messy as their home, but bursting with life the same way. If Soonyoung stares at a neighbourhood long enough, he can see children running through dying grass and smoke rising from chimneys, eyes peeking through the blinds and dogs snapping their jaws in a silent bark. Way of life doesn't change in half a day's worth of travel. Wonwoo eventually and repeatedly falls asleep and jumps awake again, but Soonyoung doesn't mind the long stretches of solitude and silence. It allows him to be alone with everything he sees. His eyes take in every piece of the world he hasn't seen before, focusing on the open road so vividly it's actually hard to drive.

When they pass through a low-class drought zone, it feels nostalgic. Still, Soonyoung is glad that Wonwoo is awake to talk over the ticking of sand and gravel against the car. "There really is nothing around here huh," Wonwoo muses. It's a peaceful strap of land, with no security, and no raiding. It's just a public road. Soonyoung hums like he agrees.

They would never be allowed to visit an actual lived-in neighbourhood by the sea; they're filled with the rich and powerful, so Soonyoung stops along the way to ask for directions to somewhere remote. They decide to meet the ocean for the first time where the shore has risen and is close to eating up a residential area. It's abandoned, mostly, and they leave the car between two vans that have stood still long enough to grow moss and flowers. It's a cool evening in late summer months, Wonwoo walks ahead and Soonyoung's feet feel heavy. He feels nervous, like he's going to meet someone instead of going to see something. Wonwoo turns to look at the distance between them, and reaches out his hand. Soonyoung looks at him helplessly, and grabs it.

Wonwoo's skin feels warm against his own. The wind picks up as they walk between the corroded houses. There's a scent in the air Soonyoung cannot place, it's so fresh and chilling he gasps a breath in through his mouth. Wonwoo breathes it in deeply, shoulders rising and falling, and there's a glint in his eyes that makes Soonyoung want to kiss him. "You ready?" Soonyoung asks him, and Wonwoo answers by taking a running start. Soonyoung is dragged along behind him, heart pounding with every step. And just like that they come up behind a corner, and there's sand beneath his feet.

Sun is soon setting behind blue clouds, and shines it's last lights onto the endless surface of vast waters. The mass of it glistens and writhes, waves slow but strong as they lap at the shore. It's not exactly as blue as Soonyoung's imagination promised him, but he doesn't complain. It's beautiful, and it goes on, and on, as far as his eyes can reach, and makes his legs feel so weak he falls on his ass in the sand. Wonwoo nods like he agrees. "Yeah," he says, staring at it, just as spellbound. Soonyoung was never the reader, but Wonwoo liked to tell him about stories he had read. Some were about sailors, men of the sea who fell in love with the ocean, and could never build a proper life on land.

Soonyoung understands, at least a little. He's a boy from the scorched desert who feels like he's seeing water for the first time.

Wonwoo sits down next to him, and leans in close. Facing something so big makes him yearn for an anchor of somekind, help his thoughts that are riddled with images of being alone in the middle of those waters, Soonyoung guesses. Wonwoo presses his cheek to Soonyoungs ear, throws one leg in Soonyoung's lap, arms reaching around Soonyoung's body. Soonyoung lifts his hand and runs it up and down Wonwoo's back. There are stains clouding his eyes, he cannot see clearly, not until a big pearl of saltwater falls from his eye to his cheek, like it has finally found a place to call home.

Wonwoo looks at it with worry. "Why?" He asks in a coo, with his deep voice rumbling up from his chest, and Soonyoung is so overcome with something so happy it almost ruins him. He pulls in a shaky breath, but doesn't sob.

"I don't know," he answers, breaking out into a weak smile. Wonwoo wipes his face with his sleeve, cups his face and kisses Soonyoung's lips. The ocean roars and whispers, Soonyoung listens. "Welcome to the coastline, cityboy." He says against Wonwoo's lips.

Wonwoo laughs breathily, nose wrinkling before burying itself in Soonyoung's shoulder. The wind starts to flow in from somewhere over there, from a distant shore, and it beats them senseless. It thrashes their hair around, grabs at their clothes, pushes sands along, dries the tears from Soonyoung's eyes and splashes his face with saltwater of the wild.  
  
It feels purifying.


End file.
